Classic BLT sandwich

There's something almost meditative about the ritual of making a BLT, the way the bacon sizzles in the pan while you're standing there, coffee in hand, waiting for that moment when it transforms from pale pink to the kind of crispy that shatters between your teeth. I learned to love this sandwich not from a cookbook but from a friend who made them for lunch on random Saturdays, always insisting that the order of assembly mattered more than anyone would admit. What started as a casual weekday lunch became one of those meals I crave when nothing else will do—simple, yes, but somehow always satisfying in ways that feel both nostalgic and entirely present.

I remember making these for my neighbor who'd just moved in, and she sat at my kitchen counter while I worked, surprised that something so casual could taste like actual care. We talked about nothing important—the weather, what grocers were nearby—but something about sharing food that way made the whole afternoon feel less lonely. That's when I realized the BLT isn't really about the ingredients; it's about the permission to make something straightforward and honest.

Ingredients

• Bread: Four slices of white or whole wheat sandwich bread—choose whichever you genuinely enjoy eating, because no amount of technique will save a slice you don't like.
• Bacon: Six slices, and yes, the quality matters here more than anywhere else in this sandwich; good bacon makes the whole thing shine.
• Lettuce leaves: Four large leaves of romaine or iceberg, washed and dried thoroughly so they don't make your bread soggy.
• Tomato: One large, ripe one, sliced thick enough to taste like something but thin enough not to slide around when you bite.
• Mayonnaise: Two tablespoons total, spread generously because it's the glue that holds flavor and texture together.
• Black pepper: A grind or two, optional but the kind of optional that actually matters if you're paying attention.

Instructions

Get your bacon going:

Heat a skillet over medium and lay the bacon strips flat, listening for that first gentle sizzle before it picks up pace. Cook for about four to five minutes per side until it's the color of autumn leaves and shatters when you bend it, then let it drain on paper towels while it cools.

Toast your bread:

While the bacon rests, get your bread golden and crispy—this is when your kitchen will smell almost unbearably good. It'll take just a few minutes and transforms everything into something that can actually hold weight without falling apart.

Spread the mayo:

Use one tablespoon on each slice, spreading it all the way to the edges so every bite has that creamy anchor. This is less about flavor and more about creating a barrier between the bread and the wet parts to come.

Layer your lettuce:

Place two lettuce leaves on each mayo-covered slice, pressing gently so they stick. This is your foundation, the thing that keeps everything from sliding into chaos.

Add the tomato:

Arrange tomato slices on top of the lettuce, then crack fresh pepper over them if that's your style. This is where you taste the sandwich for the first time in your mind, imagining that first bite.

Crown it with bacon:

Three slices of bacon per sandwich, arranged however feels right—overlapping or stacked, it doesn't actually matter as long as you can taste it. This is the moment the sandwich stops being humble and becomes something you actually wanted.

Close the sandwich:

Press the remaining bread slices on top, mayo side down, creating a sort of seal. The warmth from the toast will soften the mayo just enough to hold everything together.

Cut and serve:

Slice each sandwich in half diagonally—it makes it easier to eat and somehow tastes better this way, even though that makes no sense. Eat immediately while the bread is still warm and the bacon still has a hint of crispness.

Save

There was an afternoon when I made these for my daughter's friends, and they sat around my kitchen table dissecting why it tasted better than the versions they made at home, debating the toast and the crispness of the bacon like it mattered in the grand scheme of things. It did matter though—not because a sandwich is important, but because sitting down together and actually tasting something made it important.

Why Timing Is Everything

The architecture of a BLT depends entirely on heat and timing working in your favor. Warm bread, hot bacon, and cold lettuce and tomato create this beautiful tension that only lasts a few minutes before the toast starts to soften and lose its personality. This is why you toast right before assembly, why you don't let the sandwich sit around philosophizing about its life—you make it, you eat it, you enjoy it while it's actually good.

The Tomato Question

I've made bad BLTs with supermarket tomatoes in January that taste like colored water, and I've made transcendent ones with a single summer tomato that justified the entire sandwich's existence. A truly ripe tomato is almost a different ingredient—it brings acidity and sweetness and actual flavor that makes you understand why people write poetry about gardens. If your tomato doesn't make you want to eat it straight from the counter, it's not ready for your BLT.

Small Variations That Matter

Once you master the classic, the sandwich becomes a canvas for your own additions and preferences. Some people swear by avocado slipped in there, others add a whisper of hot sauce or a thin slice of onion for sharpness. The bones of the sandwich are strong enough to handle gentle improvisation without losing its soul.

• If you want to venture into territory, try toasting the bread with a light brush of garlic oil before the mayo goes on.
• Turkey bacon works if pork isn't your thing, though it loses some of the smokiness that makes bacon worth using.
• Serve with pickles or chips on the side because the acidity and salt of either feels like the sandwich's natural companion.

Save

A BLT is one of those rare meals that doesn't need justification or apology—it's straightforward, honest, and asks only that you pay attention to the details that matter. Make it for someone you like, or make it for yourself on a day when you deserve something good.

Recipe FAQ

→ What type of bread works best for a BLT?

White or whole wheat sandwich bread toasted until golden brown provides the ideal crunch and texture.

→ How do I get crispy bacon without burning it?

Cook bacon over medium heat, turning occasionally, for about 4–5 minutes per side until crisp but not burnt.

→ Can I substitute the lettuce with other greens?

Yes, use romaine or iceberg lettuce for crunch, or try other sturdy greens for a different texture.

→ Is there a way to add extra flavor to the sandwich?

Consider adding sliced avocado, a dash of hot sauce, or freshly ground black pepper for enhanced taste.

→ How should I assemble the sandwich for best results?

Spread mayonnaise on toasted bread, layer lettuce, tomato slices, and crispy bacon, then top with remaining bread.

→ What are recommended side dishes?

Pickles or potato chips are classic accompaniments that complement the flavors and textures well.